Goldenhaired Girl
by kekaike
Summary: Things about Rachel from the rest of the team. \\Drabbles of no set length, loosely connected. Updated sporadically.\\
1. Rachel

It is dark, eerily illuminated by the ship's task lighting. Here, the cast is green.

It has been long hours since she took up this position, waiting in silence and stillness for the moment she will be needed. She has had to demorph and was nearly caught twice now; she trembles to think that her dreaded order might not be coming.

But then-- Ah, but then. Her cousin, the one she knows she must destroy, is here at the bridge. Screaming commands, cackling at his own wit. He's double-crossed his superior. They'd suspected this might happen.

The thought-speak is distant, a tenuous connection only made possible by the ship's comm system. Her distorted view of the pool ship beyond the life-forms around her lets her see a blurred, fuzzy mess. But she has been a roach enough times to understand.

One of those forms jerks as she begins to grow larger. It is green-yellow and purple-orange, but her human mind can look past that, knows that it is brown and russet red. The fact that he is here, watching this unfold, nearly prevents her from morphing at all.

Still, she is growing. And now he is speaking, fervent and fearful. And now she is committed, as she was from the start.

Her delicate human features have emerged, but she is more focused on strength and power, on the black nose that precedes the rolling pounds of flesh and muscle the polar bear possesses. On the clear fur and brute strength and complete willingness to see everything as prey.

He calls her name, and she does not falter. Enemies around her have begun to melt and shift, but oh, she is ever faster.

But oh, the taste of victory, the crunch and whine of teeth-on-bone, the tearing gurgle of cartilage, the blessed stench of death. Roaring, she overestimates her ability, and is blinded for her efforts.

And now he helps her, as her teeth close over a screaming, sniveling snake's head. Knowing both of whom she is killing. Knowing that her time is soon at hand.

'He's all that's keeping me together', she thinks, as time begins to slow. The paw in front of her moves forward with liquid grace and deadly accuracy, and this thought of him is the one that undoes her.


	2. Marco

Pretty. Blonde. Psychotic- the 'stab you for your kidneys' kind. God, and we never would heve known if not for the war.

I wonder if she would have settled down, married a nice kid close to home, raised a little family of hooligans. Then one day, in the Perfect World With No Yeerks, Rachel loses it. The monster inside of her can't be contained.

I think, with Rachel, It was only a matter of time.

-from the foreward of _The Gorilla Speaks _


	3. Cassie

She drew in the beauty and vibrance around her and contained it inside herself, shining for all to see. She was my fair-haired counterpart, refined beauty to my plain charm. She was the push I needed to keep going. She was the girl I always aspired to be.

We were sisters. We were best friends. We were soldiers. We were the saviors of two races, perhaps even three.

I weep for the loss of her, and it is to her memory I dedicate this text.

-Foreward of _Animal Cognition and Behavior: Insights on the Animal Mind _


	4. Jake

"Hey, Cousin."

Her eyes are wide, still somehow innocent despite the carnage of a thousand battles. Despite the darkness I know lurks behind them.

"Hey, Jake."

Can I really do this? Can I send my cousin on a mission that will condemn her to death?

Yes.

Of course I can. There's no other way to win.

"You ready?"

"I guess."

"Rachel, you can't guess. I need to know. Are you ready to do this?"

She looks down, then up and away. Her breathing is quick and heavy as she watches the sky.

I have taken precautions for this, evil twisted leader that I am. I have sent him off on a mission of equal, but different, importance.

"Yeah." She says at last. "I'm ready."

"Then you should probably go."

She turns, her lower lashes glittering, to glare defiance. "I hope you know what you're doing, Jake. It's still Tom we're killing. It's still your brother. Can you live with that?"

'It's still my cousin', her eyes say, pleading. 'Please, Jake, please, find another way. You canot live with this burden, though I most certainly can'.

I turn away. A slender branch beside me is bare but for one pale green budding leaf. I study it as though it holds my solution, or perhaps merely my absolution.

Her voice is almost steady.

"When do I start this?"

I breathe out. "The sooner the better."

"Okay." She says, and breathes in. "Okay then."

And then she grins.

Her teeth gleam white. Her head tilts slightly to the side. Blonde hair swings- and for just an instant her eyes sparkle, coming alive.

She throws back her head and lets out a rascious whoop of laughter, part exhiliration, part despair. Feather patterns begin to draw their way up her arms, her legs, her face.

Her eyes lock on mine, and in them is the promise of victory.

In my chest, a new cavity forms.


End file.
